


Nobody Needs to Know

by Owlheart101



Category: Smosh, Smosh Games, Smosh Second Channel
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Female Reader, Implied Sexual Content, Mentions of Sexual Content, Non-Explicit Sexual Content, Smosh Squad - Freeform, Swearing, UPDATE: Now Fully Edited!, some sitcom shenanigans, title is hamilton inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-15
Updated: 2017-01-04
Packaged: 2018-08-08 22:46:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 18,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7776640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owlheart101/pseuds/Owlheart101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's pretty easy to say you aren't a "one-night stand" kind of girl. That sort of thing is equivalent to having a foot in two worlds, an incomplete constellation, a hurricane warning. But in your friend's bed is where you find yourself anyways one morning, and it leaves you desperate for a solution, a re-do button, and an untangled web of emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Rude Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Hope you enjoy! Leave your comments, suggestions, or questions down below please; I'd love to hear from you.

Oh, ok. Ok. Headache. Bad headache. Dry throat. Sore limbs. Hello, hangover. It's been a long time. 

I cracked one eye open, and found myself staring at a tan wall. Right, the hotel. New York. Smosh Conference. Right. 

I groaned, rolling over, closing my eyes again. It had been a long time since I'd gotten that drunk. I barely remembered last night. Uh... Let's see...

The Smosh Squad, Sunny and I had gone to the party in the banquet hall. It had been a far less formal affair than expected. There was pumping bass, dark lights, fizzy drinks, and an overwhelming feeling of freedom. The crowd thrived off it. We arrived and stuck together. But after that? We had danced and laughed, slowly getting drunk. I specifically remembered taste testing with Noah, downing fruity and bitter drinks like there was no tomorrow. To us, it probably seemed like there wasn't. Then the music turned a little sultry, Shayne had grabbed my hand, tugging me into the crowd, an- oh. 

My eyes flew open, and I nearly screamed. A broad, well-muscled back met my gaze, rising and falling with deep breaths. I swallowed. I knew that light brown hair. Oh, god. 

Lifting my head off the pillows, I was greeted with the horrid realization that this wasn't, in fact, my hotel room. It must have been Shayne's, which was only a few doors down from mine. Across the room, I spotted my shirt tossed carelessly on the TV stand. Oh shit. 

Time to go.

As delicately as I could, I slunk out of the bed, and started searching for my clothes. My shoes were by the door, my bra dangling off the air conditioner, but my skirt caused panic to rise in my chest, barely poking out from under the bed. I got dressed right by the door, out of sight just in case Shayne should temporarily wake. If memory served, he'd been just as drunk as me, if not more. With luck, he might not remember at all, and I could keep this to myself. 

Hurriedly wriggling my shirt on, my elbow banged against the wall. I froze. This was it. But all I heard was a slight snore from deeper within the room, and decided to just book it. 

Hallelujah, the door wasn't squeaky. I closed it behind me gently, wincing at the little click. Then I practically sprinted back to my room. My memory was getting clearer, probably thanks to the water Sunny had brought me sometime during the party. Shayne and I had danced, hips bumping and grinding, lights casting shadows across flushed, hot skin, then stumbling down the hallway, laughing, fumbling, his face close to mine-

I burst into my room and flopped on the bed. I never took myself for a one-night stand kind of girl. Shayne wasn't exactly a stranger, but still. 

I changed out last night's clothes, putting on my flannel and hugging it close to me. Light shone through the window. What time was it anyways? I wandered over to the nightstand, thoughts a blur. My hand landed on empty wood. My heart stopped, and this time I actually squeaked a little. 

My phone. I'd left my phone in Shayne's room.

Oh, fuck. 

 

***

 

Thanks to the clock on the bedside table, I knew that Keith came to my room around 9:00 AM.

"Girl, that was dope." He grinned. "I felt like a teenager again."

It occurred to me that Keith had probably experienced a far different night than me. "It was way more wild than I was expecting," I agreed. "Come on, they stop serving breakfast at 10:00, we gotta get the others."

We made our rounds, Keith essentially pouncing on Noah, Courtney and I fussing over Olivia, who woke up and promptly ran to throw up. Eventually, after Olivia had taken two Tylenols, the five of us stopped outside of Shayne's door. I lurked in the back of the group. Noah knocked, and the door almost instantly swung open. Shayne, hair a little ruffled, but otherwise normal. He grinned.

"Who knew executives could throw such a bangin' party?"

I stayed wary the entire way downstairs. The Squad cracked jokes and complained about headaches, but my eyes lingered on Shayne. He didn't seem to remember, but it was still early to tell. His eyes didn't linger. He didn't stay far away. In an effort to disguise my concern, I stayed near Olivia, mother-henning over her.

We found Sunny lounging in the lobby, looking way too much like somebody's dad in khaki pants and a baseball t-shirt. Thankfully, the breakfast bar was still open. I emotionally required a bagel right now. 

By the end of breakfast, I'd begun to hope that Shayne really had forgotten everything. Maybe I'd be able to sneak in his room and grab my phone while he was packing. No one needed to know what had happened. I could keep a secret. 

Returning to our floor, we begun to separate, getting ready to pack. Our flight left early this afternoon. I slid my card key through the lock, shouting out a joke to Courtney, trying to recall where all my things were. I was about to enter my room when a hand grabbed my wrist. I turned around, and found myself face to face with Shayne. Barely two inches divided us. It felt uncomfortably familiar. 

His eyes were serious. "You left this in my room."

He pressed my cell into my hand, but I didn't even look down. Our eyes were locked. We stared at each other for a moment, then I tugged my hand free, and stepped backwards into my room. 

"Thanks," I managed, and closed the door. 

He knew. He knew, he remembered, and we were officially boned. How do you come back from something like this? This is what drama sitcoms are born from. We didn't need that in the office. I rubbed my eyes, anxious. Shayne and I normally spent so much time together, as close as close can be, but this ruined it. We wouldn't be able to look at each other without remembering that night, the dimness of the room, the hurriedness of hands over skin, lips over lips, learning each other without sight, jus- No.

And yet... Shayne's acting this morning almost scared me, it was so good. He nearly had me believing it hadn't happened. So if he kept that up, and I followed suite, perhaps we could pull it off. It could remain in the past. 

I pondered our relationship, walking into the bedroom. He was one of my best friends. I wasn't willing to let that go. With time, we could accept it for what it was: a drunken escapade. Of course it would be a touchy subject the morning after. But, as mature adults, we would move on. I snorted. Mature adults.

I gathered up my things, slipped my phone in my pocket, and met them all back in the lobby, announcing that my ass was ready to be pounded by the airplane seat. Act natural.


	2. Second Time's the Charm

"Hey, nerds."

I looked up, lowering my headphones. Shayne stood in the doorway of Smosh Games' main office. Sohinki shook his finger sternly at him. 

"Watch yourself, youngster. Who are you calling nerds?" 

"What's up?" I asked, rolling my chair back to see him better. 

Two weeks after getting back from 'the' trip, and we hadn't spoken about 'the' thing once. We kept face, bantering, and playing off one another as usual, making small talk when necessary. It lingered, however. I made sure we were never alone together, coming up with random excuses whenever it seemed likely. My pulse raced whenever I thought of us unaccompanied, left to confront what had happened. Nowhere to hide, no backup plan, no escape route. I didn't dare face the music. Life was better without reality coming around the corner with a smack to the face. I closed my eyes momentarily. Every once in awhile, however, I would catch him staring at me, no hint of humour in those clear blue eyes. Our gazes would lock, time frozen for a moment. Sometimes I looked away first. Sometimes he did. 

"Ian wants to plan another party. He says were due for another mind blower."

Ah, yes. The parties could be more accurately described as a sleepover with overgrown children.

I raised my eyebrows. "So, is it at mine or his house this time?" We seemed to always host.

Shayne shrugged, a smile pulling at his lips. "If I'm here, I guess yours."

I eyed him for a moment. That little smirk, which always meant he was building up to a joke: such a small detail. So specific to him. Like that constantly wind-blown hair, the variety of facial expressions, the way he folded his hands during his bits. 

I tried to pretend I wasn't just pondering his looks when I replied, "Tell Ian to text me, and that I'll make it a good one."

He pulled back from the doorway, saying goodbye to the others. There were no footsteps for a moment, a heartbeat of fragile silence, then they lead hastily away. 

It had been awhile since our last get together. I frowned. We tended to play weird games, and do a lot of improv that often ended up with people sprawled on top of people. Most of us were pretty physical. I sure as hell was. But with mine and Shayne's recent dynamic, I worried. We'd managed to keep it under wraps so far. Better it stay that way. A long time in proximity to each other didn't exactly lift my spirits. 

Lasercorn noticed my expression. "You okay?"

I blinked, then smiled at him. "Yeah. Just lost in thought."

"I can host, you know, if there's a problem," he offered, albeit cautiously. 

My smile widened at the thoughts of Lasercorn trying to organize a party. "Don't worry, I got it. Just show up and be ready to be mediocrely impressed."

 

***

 

Mari shrieked as Flitz bounded over her, gesturing wildly with his hands. 

"Explosions! Action movie!" Olivia shouted. 

"Horror film!" Joven cried. 

Wes piped up. "You're bad at this!"

"WWII! Hercules! Lobster!" Shayne bellowed. 

I was nearly crying from laughing so hard. Noah, Anthony, and I were pretty much on the floor, having given up completely at guessing. Flitz's mind just worked too fast for charades. 

"I'm gonna pee," Courtney wailed, bouncing in her seat. "Stop, stop, please!"

Flitz threw his hands in the air. "How did you not guess?! Y'all are awful at this."

Ian wiped tears from his eyes. "Guys, I hate to end this, but I gotta go."

Protests immediately rose up from the crowd, but Keith also got to his feet. 

"Yeah, I need my beauty rest."

I saw them out to the door, thanking them for coming, and that I'd see them again tomorrow. Neither of them had drank, but when I saw Joven trying to find his shoes, I shook my head. 

"You're getting a cab."

"I know, I just can't find my- why do we all wear Converse?!"

Slowly but surely, everyone filed out, until it was me, Wes, and Shayne left. Beer bubbled pleasantly in my veins, making constellations out of light reflections, forming feelings where there were none. Time for these people to go. Wes and I stood by the window, giggling. We were waiting on Wes' ride. 

"Tell your lovely girl I said hi," I told him, giving him a hug. "How's she doing?" 

Secretly, I was trying to will him to stay longer. Only Shayne would be left once he'd gone. As much as I tried to deny it, the fewer people there were here, the more the tension between us built. I could feel his eyes boring into me now. The pull was undeniable, and scary.

Moments later, unfortunately, Wes' girlfriend pulled up, and he exited, leaving behind him an awkward silence and two wary creatures. 

I turned around slowly from the door, making my way back to the couch. I sat down on the opposite end, and studied Shayne. He seemed to be doing the same to me. Testing the waters. Figuring things out. 

We'd both had drinks. I could feel it playing with my judgement, making it easier to let go, to not care. It made it easier to examine Shayne without guilt, running my gaze over his well-built frame and equally buzzed expression. 

"I should probably call a taxi," he said. 

"Probably," I agreed. 

A moment passed. And another. Then we lurched forwards. 

We both grabbed for each other at the same time, his hands landing at my waist, mine at his jaw. Our lips collided, messy and quick, frantic in our actions. With alcohol flowing through us, loosening nerves and urging on actions, it was so easy to let him pull me onto his lap, gripping tightly, kissing like people driven mad. Maybe we were. 

Let's just say that shortly after that, we were stumbling down the hall, stopping to press each other against the wall and make out some more. He went after my neck, I threw his shirt away somewhere, then we were on the bed, in the dark, and we let ourselves go. 

 

***

 

I don't know what time it was when he left. Maybe 2:00, 3:00 in the morning? I woke up when the bed shifted, watched him gather his things through barely open eyelids. Any time he turned towards me, I feigned sleep, deciding that was an encounter we didn't need to have. When I actually woke up later, all evidence of the night was gone, except for the guilt of memories and a pale hickey on my neck. 


	3. Call it Natural Progression

"You never come by our office anymore!" Courtney complained, lounging in the Smosh Games kitchenette. 

I shrugged, watching the coffee machine light flashing. The smell of French vanilla slowly filled the air. "I know. Sorry, Court, I've been doing a lot of writing lately."

Lately, the words for multiple sketches had been coming to me very easily, so I never left the Smosh Games area. I wrote until my fingers felt numb, then wrote some more. It was therapeutic. The coffee machine beeped, and I rummaged through the cupboards for a mug. 

Even if I wasn't writing, I wouldn't be going over to their office of my own free will anyways. 

Courtney faked a pout, turning on the puppy dog eyes. "Come visit us? Please? We all miss you!"

Noah and Courtney had been hounding after me, trying to get me to hang out in their office. Olivia and Keith would text me. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, from Shayne. I couldn't believe that we'd slept together twice! It was an awful idea the first time. You would think we'd know better, but no, give us some alcohol and a little alone time... Jesus. 

I turned back to my best friend, blowing gently on my coffee, and trying to come up with a valid excuse.

"Later. I promise. Just let me finish up."

I managed to escape that conversation relatively unscathed, but it would only grow worse. I returned to my desk, and plopped my forehead against the hard wood. The resounding thud was bizarrely satisfying. It described my state of being perfectly. 

Three weeks since the first time we'd had passionate, drunken sex, one week since we'd managed to do it a second time. This had to be a record for tremendous mistakes in a short period of time. Forget 'don't date your co-worker'. Don't fuck your co-worker.

But the most awful thing had only recently hit me; I missed him. Unbeknownst to me, Shayne had become such a part of my daily life that taking him away was like taking away breakfast. It just didn't work. 

My plan wasn't exactly working. Stare straight ahead, do not swerve from your path, maintain the office aura, and maintain a relationship. Deny, deny, deny, until you're awake at 3 AM with bloodshot eyes and a weary mind that wonders why your lungs seem to be collapsing. 

Perhaps I was being dramatic.

Shayne hadn't sought me out. He was smart. He knew we had to move on from this. We could do this. 

I thumped my head on the desk again. I was remarkably stupid. Part of me needed Shayne, part of me needed to keep him away. Playing a game of chess is impossible if the opponent is yourself. We had crossed a line, something that couldn't be undone, and dammit if I'd feel ashamed whenever I saw him. But I missed my friend. I really did.

"Hey, uh, you feeling ok?"

Flitz's voice sounded behind me. I grimaced. 

"Well, I've got one hell of a headache."

 

***

 

The plan? Simple. Sneak into the Smosh Squad office, drop off some papers to Sunny, leave without being seen by anyone else. There were plenty of rooms to hide in. Sunny wasn't even in the same room as the Second Channel stars. I pressed the package to my chest, and took a deep breath. In and out. Easy.

Things went well. My footsteps were light and quick, I wasted no time checking things out, and my heartbeat remained steady. A doorknob clicked, and I effortlessly slid into hiding behind a giant cardboard donut. A technician waved at me, and I waved back while pulling the reliable 'don't-talk-to-me-now-nothing-personal-but-I-have-no-time-for-bullshit' expression. Not to brag or anything, but it was nearly perfection. 

Nearly.

"Thanks," Sunny said, taking the folder from me. "I'll check this stuff out and come see you later."

I smiled (sunnily...?) at him. "Oh, you can e-mail if it's easier." Someone might tag along if he came to visit. Better he sticks to his office. 

After a very brief chat, I turned to exit, calling out a soft goodbye. I smirked, feeling proud. Nothing to it. The exit was the easiest part. I turned the corner, and almost ran into Shayne Topp himself. 

I stared blankly at him for a moment, completely unprepared for this. Funny how your mind ignores the most obvious eventuality for the sake of ignorance.

He also seemed rather surprised. "Hey."

"Hi," I replied, eyeing him carefully.

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what else to say. My cheeks already felt hot, undoubtedly turning bright red. Embarrassed and confused, I looked away. The floor was very appealing.

Shayne shifted. "How's it going?"

"Good, thanks." So I told a lie. Suck it up.

Seconds ticked away, timing how long it would take for one of us to chicken out, to back up and exit stage right. Anyone could have convinced me I'd been standing there for hours, as cheesy as it was. They say humans are designed to remember their worst moments as a survival mechanism. I say evolution really screwed us over in that case.

Shayne breathed in, preparing to say something, and I broke. Bawk bawk.

"I gotta go," I blurted, head jerking up. "I'll see you around."

His lips pressed together, holding back whatever had been coming. "Yeah."

I turned around, mentally smacking myself in the face. Way to be calm and collected. 

This wasn't going to work.

 

***

 

My finger tapped out a steady beat on my desk. A document filled with size 12 font took up the screen, inviting in its promise of knowledge. I leaned forwards, and my chair creaked. My hands delicately posed over the keyboard. I typed.

"THE END."

Honestly, one of my finer works. When I wasn't filming or slowly killing myself over the sexual events that haunted me, I was writing up a storm. Short stories and skits were my thing. This particular story was about a man and a woman, who lived in adjacent apartments. They both lived alone. Every day and every night they listened to each others footsteps, and tried to imagine what the other was doing. Without ever meeting, they fell in love. Put simply, it was a story about the side of us that dreams, the side that longs for connections, no matter how small or how seemingly insignificant.

It was quite ridiculous. 

Normally, I would send my work to Shayne and Flitz. Flitz, being a creative mind, would usually get what I was trying to convey, and use a bunch of complex words to try and describe both the plot and how he felt. Sometimes the words were made up, but I decided to never call him out on it.

Shayne, on the other hand, was a creator. He knew the perfect balance of constructive criticism and useful praise. We'd often stayed up late talking about a sketch one of us had written, or a movie we'd watched. 

Many people talked about movies, or books, or plays. Many relationships were built on that. It wasn't exactly uncommon. It wasn’t special. It wasn’t.

I nearly broke. I almost e-mailed it to him, desperate for his opinion.

No.

I sighed, and sent Flitz the document.


	4. Daydreaming in Short Story Form, Part 1

_9 AM. Sun filtered through the barely open curtains, illuminating the dust floating around the room. Outside the window, people talked, shops opened, traffic jammed. It was tranquil inside. She waited._

_9:01 AM. In the apartment next door, something creaked. She smiled._

_Every morning, ever since her new neighbor had moved in, he'd stepped on that squeaky old floorboard while getting out of bed. And every morning, ever since he'd arrived, she listened for it. It was a sign. A sign that his day had begun._

_While making eggs on the stained stovetop, she could hear the faint sounds of a shower running. Thank goodness they didn't share a bathroom. They'd always be fighting for the right to wash up first. Today, he had won._

_As far as she could tell, he was a calm man. His footsteps were never rushed, always a steady, relaxed pace. She, on the other hand, ran around with her hairbrush in one hand and flats in another, wildly trying to locate all her belongings. It was a hectic life. She was a hectic person. Every time she caught herself sprinting down the hall, she fought the urge to holler out an apology to him. Truly, that was a silly thought._

_Why, they didn't even know each other._


	5. Just Like Stretching an Elastic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any ideas, comments or requests, I'd adore hearing them. Always open to suggestion.

A bird hopped nearby, occasionally pecking at the ground. I watched it move along, wandering around in search of food. I was tempted to throw it a fry or two.

In my distraction, I nearly missed Courtney trying to take said fries.

"Hey!" I swatted at her hand. "You've got your own!"

She grinned, fingers dipping towards her food.

"Honestly, I thought I was going to have to kidnap you in order to get some quality time together. What's going on? You're definitely avoiding our office."

"I'll have you know I was there collecting props mere days ago," I retorted triumphantly.

Courtney gave me a look. "You were there for five minutes. Not even! That doesn't count."

I almost wanted to scream. It wasn't my fault! I wanted to go, I wanted to see my friends, to see Shayne, but I wanted things to be normal. I still thought about those nights pretty much hourly. The warmth, the freedom, my back arching into his touch and his breath hitching-

Nope. Wrong time.

Courtney carried on. "Noah wants your thoughts on an episode of Put It in My Mouth. He's worried about the guest or something, and Keith keeps teasing him about it, so that's pretty much occupying most of their time. I was working on a skit with Olivia, and we wanted Shayne to help, but he's been super out of it lately."

I froze with a fry halfway to my mouth, processing this. "Really?"

She nodded. "I asked him what was wrong, and he kind of shrugged it off, made a joke. Ok, don't tell anyone, but I think he's lonely."

Here was my dilemma; on one hand, Courtney was my best friend. We told each other everything. On the other hand, the knowledge that Shayne and I had, ahem, done things, didn't need to become common. Change the subject.

At least, I was going to. But something pulled me in.

"Lonely?" I questioned. "He hangs out with us all the time."

"No, no, I mean relationship lonely," Courtney explained.

I shook my head, picking up my drink. "He's nice. He could get a girl if he wanted." Oh, you would know, wouldn't you?

Courtney wiggled her eyebrows at me, leaning in conspiratorially. "I think he's trying to get over a girl."

I spluttered, nearly choking on my iced tea. Sorry, what? What girl? Last time I checked, I was the only one he'd slept with in a month. Of course, Court didn't know that.

She laughed, offering me a napkin. "I know, right? He never said anything. But he must be. It's as obvious as a late-night drama."

I managed to recover slightly. "W-who?"

"I don't know. But Olivia is going to try and set him up with a girl from her dance studio." The blonde pretended to wipe tears from her eyes. "It makes me wanna cry, seeing how mopey he is."

Oh, good. A dance studio girl. Don't get me wrong, I loved Olivia, but that didn't seem like Shayne's type of girl. Which meant he'd probably turn her down. Probably.

"Not like Shayne to be mopey," I remarked.

Courtney nodded, dipping a fry in ketchup. "Which means she's either the greatest person on the planet, or fantastic at sucking dick."

 

***

 

"Where's the baseball bat?" Anthony asked, looking behind him.

Noah pointed down the hall. "I think we left it in the kitchen."

Another Smosh shoot, filled with bizarre props and costumes. The boys had asked me to help in the background again, giving tips and straightening bowties when necessary. I probably should have been more shocked at the sight of Keith strolling around in a skin-tight dress, but it honestly no longer fazed me. That worried me a little.

"It's not there," I heard Anthony call.

Shayne placed his hands on his hips, shaking his head. "Well, shoot's over, go home everyone."

"Check the bathroom," I hollered back to Anthony.

My eyes darted to Shayne. He lingered at the end of the bed, seeming to be deep in thought. As the shoot was put on hold in an effort to find that prop, my thoughts were put on hold as I just... Looked at him. An opportunity like this came so rarely now, to sit back and look without stressing over anything. So I looked. And I didn't feel ashamed.

Then he looked over, eyes catching mine instantly, and I jolted out of my seat to go help Anthony.

"Where the shit is the bat?!" Ian shouted from the living room. I pondered for a moment, then headed to the garden.

Voilà. Precisely in the middle of the yard, where Anthony had dropped it. I picked it up, waved it to Ian through the window, then returned to the bedroom. Something tightened within me. I approached Shayne almost shyly, offering the baseball bat like a peace offering. He didn't notice at first, but then he turned, and froze. He stared at me so openly, so obviously at me and not the bat, with those clear blue eyes. Oh, Shayne, you can't do that. I smiled tightly, ignoring the knot in my stomach, and pushed the bat closer to him. 

He took it, weighing it in his hands. "Thanks."

I nodded, turning away. As I returned to my chair behind the scenes, the knot tightened, and I pretended I didn't feel it.

 

***

 

My headphones clattered onto my desk. I jumped to my feet, beaming.

"Seriously? We're getting another party?"

Joven did a small dance, which everyone pointedly ignored.

"Yes!" Lasercorn yelled. "Hurray for rich executives!"

For the past two years, we'd been invited to a party thrown by YouTube executives Ian and Anthony were in touch with. A real fancy affair; you could bring a plus-one, and enjoy great music and mini caviar platters. I recalled having a blast at the last two. A party sounded just fine to me. 

To add to the already great affair, this might be what Shayne and I needed. I could start a casual conversation, then dance around goofily with him like we always would, trying to out-do each other's awful Charlestons or tangoing stiffly to an electronica song. The good times, times I found myself thinking of in the strangest of times. Little specifics stood out. Shayne laughing at my 'dad-at-barbecue' move, me fixing his bowtie, our hands clasped in a wild twirl, him offering me a drink or guiding me through the dance floor, and that smile, always that smile...

This was really ruining my work habits. Time to fix it.

Flitz grabbed my hand, and pulled me into a fancy dip. I yelped, then giggled as he gave me an overdramatic sexy look. 

"Having a lovely evening, madame?"

"Better with your company, monsieur," I drawled, placing my hand lightly on his chest.

Joven clapped excitedly. "Find your dates, ladies and gentlemen! Here we go!"


	6. Break Out the Duct Tape

The café bustled with people in business suits, and almost every seat was occupied by a tired university student. All of the above were leeching off of the free Wi-Fi.

I scrolled through my texts, reminding myself of the different drinks I had to order. I'd offered to do a beverage run, and asked my friends to text me their requests. 7 drinks in total. My debit card was ready.

"Hi, what can I get for you?"

My eyes flicked up to the cashier. Ooh. Alright then. He was cute, with a well-defined jawline and warm eyes. I noticed a moment later he seemed to be appraising my looks as well.

I rattled off my order, apologizing a million times for the overload. He shook it off with a couple of jokes. We continued to chat over the counter. This... Wasn't so bad.

"Thank you." I flashed a smile at him as he handed over the trays. "Have a nice day."

His eyebrows (his very finely shaped eyebrows, might I add) furrowed. "Wait," he blurted. "Um, look, this is embarrassing, but would you like to go out sometime?"

Well, hot damn, break out the bucket list. Get asked out spontaneously: check!

But even as the words left his mouth, my heart tightened. My smile faltered. 

"I'm sorry," I began, and saw his face fall. "I just... Sorry."

Needless to say, I got out of there pretty quickly. Strolling down the street, I barely paid attention to the world around me. I didn't have anything against that guy. I didn't have anything against random dates. And yet, when he'd asked me, something in me had rebelled, had pushed away the thought without stopping to consider.

Huh.

The intertwining smell of tea and coffee rose upwards. Everyone except for Keith and myself got some sort of tea. Weaklings.

By the time I arrived back at the office, the memory of the guy had started to fade, but not the confusion that went with it.

 

***

 

"If you throw anything at me," I yelled, entering the room, "both you and your drink die."

It would not have been the first time someone had been ambushed walking into the Smosh Second Channel Office. Noah and Joe cheered as I entered, and Keith scurried to meet me. I grinned, passing around the cups, feeling like an all-star. 

Eventually, only Shayne's cup remained. Of course. I approached his desk, stepping carefully over a Nerf gun, and held out the cup.

"You, uh, you didn't text me for my order," he said, taking it.

I nodded, raising one eyebrow at him.

He raised both back, looking between me and the tea. "You remembered this?"

Earl gray with a shot of peppermint and a bit of whipped cream. 

"Yeah, guess so." I shrugged. "We've done too many café runs."

Bidding them all a quick farewell, I exited, giving Shayne a quick smile right before I left. And I thought I saw him give one in return.

 

***

 

I scrolled through some comments on my latest video. Most were positive, thankfully, a few negative and a couple lusting after my body, but I'd mostly gotten over those. It took a little bit more to get under my skin.

_Heyy :D When are you doing another video with Shayne??_

That popped out at me. I sat back, running my hands through my hair. A good question.

Ever since the drink run two days ago, things had gotten noticeably better. We smiled at each other. I came by their office comfortably. And to top it all off; we'd had one conversation by ourselves! It was short but sweet, leaving my head in the clouds and my heart on a trampoline. The constellations of our relationship were shining again.

I'd realized something in our time apart. I needed Shayne, spent nights awake thinking about where we went wrong, about those drunken encounters that had felt so right at the time. Bittersweet, bittersweet. The pull in my soul was not imagined, and I was sick of it. Shayne was so sweet, funny, smart, kind. He was... Very important.

It was time. Time to officially renew the friendship. And the party was the perfect place to do it.

My heart fluttered a little, and I kept scrolling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How many times will I say "it's time" in this...  
> Are you all enjoying my little story so far?


	7. A Plan, A Party, and a Stab in the Back

I scurried down the office aisles, dodging around producers with stacks of paper and an editor with a stack of snacks. Excitement tingled in the air; today was Wednesday. The party was only two days away. Currently, I was headed to discuss arrangements with the Smosh Squad. We had dates, dresses, drinking, drives, dancing to talk about. 

"Spill the beans, kids!" I burst into their office. "What's the game plan?"

Olivia spun her chair around. "We definitely want to get ready together. I don't care at whose house."

"Right, I-" I stopped, looking around. Only Olivia, Noah, and Courtney were in the room. "Where's Keith and Shayne?"

"They're 'making photocopies'," Olivia informed me, making air quotes. "Really, they're probably messing around on Snapchat."

I could have guessed.

"Okay, well, we can get ready at my house," I offered.

Courtney cheered. "Yes! Girls' get together!"

"No boys?" Noah asked, giving us puppy-dog eyes. 

We all shook our heads at him. Olivia gave him a weird look.

"Aren't the boys renting a limo?"

"I think that was a joke," Noah giggled.

Courtney clapped once to get our attention. "Anyways, us three and Mari can get ready, drive together, and meet our dates there."

I wiggled my eyebrows. "Who’s got a date?"

Olivia raised her hand. "Me, Mari is probably bringing Peter, and Shayne."

I blinked. Wait. Come again?

"Shayne?"

Courtney seemed pleased. "He's going with the dance studio girl Olivia found for him."

I felt strange. He was going with someone? But we'd been building our connection, promising each other that we'd have fun at the party and he was bringing a date? Maybe I'd missed a memo, but that didn't seem like 'having fun together' to me. 

I was... Angry. All those little smirks, the secret glances, was it a joke to him? I thought we were coming back from the thing. I thought we were going to be okay. Two nights that we'd spent together obviously didn't mean anything to him, so what had he been avoiding me for? I didn't think he was messing around. I believed the emotions in his eyes when no one else was looking, the uncertainty, the apologies, the...

The regret.

The regret of having made a dumb mistake, and having to put up with me because of it. He wanted to move on. He wanted to bring in another girl. A pretty, smart girl who wouldn't sleep with him on a whim and then pretend that it changed anything.

He wanted it to be over.

Fine. Alright. That can be done. We can forget it. Two can play this game.

The door creaked behind me.

"Hey!" Keith bounded in, throwing an arm around my shoulder. "How's it going?"

Shayne followed him. Unsurprisingly, neither of them carried papers. 

I glanced at Shayne. He caught my gaze, and his eyes lit up, looking pleasantly surprised.

Who wouldn't be happy to see their good ol' friend, right?

"Hey," he said, smiling.

My features hardened, eyes cold, poker face on. I stared at him for a second, watching the grin slowly fade from his face, then turned back to Courtney.

"I gotta go do some editing," I told her, shrugging off Keith's arm. 

I walked away from the office with my chin held high, and didn't look back.

 

***

 

"What the hell?! I know I brought my eyeliner!"

"Borrow mine," I called out, frowning at my closet.

The original dress I'd planned on wasn't going to cut it. After the events of Wednesday, my mindset had changed. I needed to show up looking my most confident.

A loose floral dress didn't exactly scream self-esteem.

"You've been staring at your clothes for at least an hour."

I turned around to see Mari in the doorway. Half her hair was curled, the rest of it hanging down her back. She entered, and plopped down on my bed.

"What's up?"

Mari and I had become best friends almost immediately. All my coworkers were very dear to me, from the goofy Noah to free spirited Flitz, but we had bonded pretty much on sight. We knew each other. So she recognized the indecision in my eyes.

"I, uh," I frowned, trying to figure out how to explain this, "I can't wear the dress I was going to."

"Why not? It's really pretty."

"But there's a... Thing."

Mari grinned. "You sound like you've got a boy problem."

I let out a sound that was half groan, half laugh. "Oh, Mari, 'problem' doesn't even begin to cover it." 

I paused. It hadn't been my original plan to tell anyone about what went down. But this had gotten serious. This had gotten personal.

This required a professional team of femme fatale best friends.

"Court, Olivia, you might wanna come here."

We all sat on my bed while I recounted the tale. It took a few minutes to convince Courtney that, yes, I did have sex with Shayne, and no, Mari, I'm not pregnant, and no, Olivia, I don't remember how big is dick was. 

Once they'd gotten past the initial shock, I delved into the politics behind the situation. The back and forth, the avoiding, the tension, the mind games I was playing against myself, and the hope that we'd gotten past it. They smiled fondly when I told them about the looks we'd exchanged, the hints that we were more than alright.

Courtney downright gasped when I told then that he'd taken the dance studio girl despite all the effort we'd put in.

"I'll call her," Olivia said immediately. "I'll tell her to make up an excuse, and say she can't go."

I shook my head. "It's not her fault."

Mari cracked her knuckles. "He was definitely playing you. Why go through all the trouble if he didn't care?"

"He doesn't strike me as uncaring," I defended weakly. "But I don't understand. W-we have a connection. I can feel it, it's strong, but he's taking a girl to the party. After telling me, to my face, that we would hang out there."

Courtney's eyebrows furrowed. "He's gone and messed up."

We all started talking at once.

"Big mistake."

"I heard him tell you that, I remember, I was there-"

"It makes no sense-"

"Make an effort, Topp."

I eventually spoke up louder. "He didn't have to take me. Hell, I didn't need him to take me. But it feels like he's going with this girl to prove a point and shove it in my face."

A brief silence.

"Absolutely," Mari agreed. "We gotta fight back."

"If he doesn't need you, you 100% don't need him."

"We'll make him regret it."

I grinned, feeling spirited again. I had the girls on my side. They got it. They validated my feelings, and even brought up some points I hadn't thought of before. 

If he cared, he would have come to me sooner.

If he wanted to hang out at the party, he wouldn't have brought a girl.

He was proving that he was over it in a clear message. He was saying something very simple.

'It doesn't matter.'

Well, fuck that. I put effort into it. I wanted us to accept it, and take control of what had happened. I wanted us to understand each other. I wanted us to be as close as we once were. There was a fire raging in my belly, licking at my heart, and it was time to let the heat fly.

"Alright," I said, surveying my team. "What's the plan?"

 

***

 

The girls whisked me into the bathroom, and began laying out different lipsticks.

"It's simple," Olivia began, popping one open. "We just have to show him that you don't care even more than he doesn't care. Did that make sense?"

"Once he sees that," Mari continued, "he'll realize he made a mistake. If you've moved on, without him approaching you to talk about, it's over. You'll have outplayed him."

I caught on. "So, I need to look deadly beautiful. Sexy, even."

Courtney nodded. "Catch his attention with the looks. Flirt with some guys. Enjoy yourself."

"Make him jealous."

"Be beyond his reach."

"Act super empowered."

"You don't need him," the four of us chimed together.

Mari slammed down two lipsticks. "I like these."

"We have to pick a dress first," I reminded her. 

Footsteps sounded in the doorway, excited little taps. We turned, and found Olivia standing there, triumphant. I hadn't noticed her sneak out.

"I found the perfect one," she announced, pulling it out from behind her back. 

Instantly, we all clapped and cheered. It was something a Bond girl would wear. Sleek, form-fitting, black, with one shoulder strap and a slight glitter to it. Short enough to show off my legs without being trashy. Dark enough to be dangerous without looking like a mourner's outfit. Sexy yet classy. Perfection.

"That, red shoes, mascara, and foundation," Courtney listed, growing more excited. "I can do some contouring, you're great at your eyebrows, Mari can do a little bit of eyeliner, and Olivia is an artist with lipstick."

Hell. Yes.

Our ideas were forming into one beautiful masterpiece. I wanted to feel validated, to quell the anger, to make him as confused and hurt as I had been. Shayne...

All hail the queen.


	8. Daydreaming in Short Story Form, Part 2

_9:30 AM. He took a sip of his tea, as the sound of footsteps clattered around next door. She must have a meeting today._

_He imagined she was a businesswoman, a go-getter, with bright eyes and busy feet. Any time he heard her yelp when she dropped something, or slam a door by mistake, he chuckled. Relax, he wanted to say. Don't worry._

_Today was a dreary day. He didn't have to go to work today; there were no files to be checked, double checked, and checked again. There was no meeting, no urgent project. Today he relaxed, with his cup of tea and pyjamas pants._

_On these days, he always hoped she'd stay at home. Her daily life almost had no pattern, and he delighted in guessing what she was up to. Perhaps cooking. Or reading. He envisioned an apartment with bright colours, somewhat like his own. It could be what gave her all that energy. He sighed. He ought to simply knock on her door and figure it out._

_She was late coming home today. For roughly twenty minutes, he worried, unable to concentrate on his book. Yet at last, the door creaked, the shoes tumbled, and there was blessed silence._

_He imagined that she, too, was listening._

_Listening for his movements, his lifestyle, for the neighbor she had but had never met. He imagined she felt the same. He imagined that he was going crazy._

_Nevertheless, he shifted deliberately so his chair creaked. Seconds later, her footsteps echoed faintly, growing fainter as she left the wall separating them behind. His fingers clutched his book tighter._

_Perhaps not imagining after all._


	9. The Magical Properties of Good Music and Red Lipstick

The lobby's floor vibrated slightly. I could feel it through my shoes, a slight tingle that sent adrenaline spiking through my veins. Welcome to one of YouTube's many buildings, home of recording spaces, important CEOs, and, tonight, the yearly party. When you can feel the beat before you enter the room, that's when you know it's gonna be good.

Olivia, Mari, Courtney, and I strolled up together, following the signs to the hall rented out for this event. Lights and carpet lined the way, the music growing louder. We passed a group of men in party attire. Much to my satisfaction, they seemed to lose their train of thought as we passed by. The youngest looking one even turned to watch us go. 

Hips swinging casually, we rounded a corner and found the doorway. Low lights glowed on the ceiling, and a moving mass of bodies congregated in the middle. Not too many were dancing yet. This was just the beginning. A little too loud, to grab your attention. Too unfamiliar, just for background music as you found your friends. The DJs knew what was up. I trusted them to give me something to work with.

The boys had said they'd wait for us right inside. I peered at dim figures, trying to spot something familiar. Mari grabbed my hand and pointed. Of course. Lasercorn's orange hair beckoned to us, so brilliantly recognizable. Excited, we hurried over to them.

"He- holy shit." Joven's eyes widened as we got closer.

Sohinki laughed, leaning in so we could hear him over the music. "I think Joven's trying to say that you all look great."

"Thanks," I said. "You clean up pretty well too."

Wes, Joshua, Sohinki, Lasercorn, and Matt Raub stood before us. Flitz couldn't come. The Smosh Squad boys were arriving together. They did all look good, with pressed shirts and fashionable ties. I was particularly fond of Lasercorn's suit jacket and Wes' dress shoes. Although I pretended not to notice, it was obvious; their eyes kept drifting to me. 

Credit where credit is due; I felt wonderful. My makeup immaculate, my dress pristine, and flats with a bit of a heel to give me a little edge. I resembled the girlfriend of a mafia member: gorgeous, but can definitely wield a knife better than you can.

Bodies pressed up behind me, and I shuffled to make room. Noah squeezed in next to me, looking adorable with his bowtie and wide smile.

Keith and Shayne followed. My eyes flicked to the girl standing by Shayne's side. She was very pretty, with large eyes and a cream dress that complimented her skin tone. I smiled softly at her. She returned it, inching closer to Shayne.

Not her fault, not her fault...

"Hi," I said, mostly directing the words at Keith and Noah. But Shayne heard, and he looked, and...

His jaw actually dropped. 

For a brief, beautiful second, he seemed completely frozen, eyes wide, taking it all in. Shocked. In awe. Mesmerized. 

Then he blinked, regained composure, and I turned my head before our eyes met.

Soon enough, we waded into the crowd, an awkward group trying to find a large enough spot. I ended up next to Joe, and we placed bets on who would leave first, who would get wasted, who would embarrass themselves, etc.

"Ladies and gentlemen, here we go!"

This DJ truly was a mastermind. One simple sentence, and they had the entire room in an uproar, stomping and clapping.

The music started.

We grooved to an electronica beat, getting ourselves warmed up for the hours ahead. I travelled around our friends, dancing with Sohinki, then Wes' girlfriend, and the others in turn, doing a neat spin past Shayne. He and his date were dancing. I wound up next to Courtney.

"You guys really picked a good one," I muttered, watching the dance girl. 

Courtney grimaced. "I regret it all now. But you'll get him," she promised. "Did you see his face when he first saw you?"

Oh, I did. It was burned in my memory, my driving force, my triumph and urge for more. 

In the next five hours, he had to be sweating bullets, unable to take is eyes off me, remembering two very specific nights and feeling the burn. Five hours.

Tick, tock.

 

***

 

I waited thirty minutes before I started to make my moves. A simple song with heavy bass kicked up, the kind that made you want to down a vodka and go to town. The girls, as if they were a hive mind, bunched together, swiveling, and rolling closer. Our hips bounced off each other, getting a feel for the music. I spun Olivia and we laughed. Mari and Remina stepped in time. The guys had backed off a little, giving us space. The beat intensified. I threaded my hand through my hair. It got louder. I closed my eyes. Higher, and higher, heat growing, higher... Then the beat dropped, and we went wild.

We rolled our hips, hands curving down our figures, playing off each others' moves. I bent downwards, fingers brushing the ground then curving back up, back arched inwards. Courtney brushed our butts together. Remina tossed her hair. We jumped and hopped and basically acted ridiculous in the hottest way. All of us were laughing. It was way over the top, and yet I felt the eyes on us. Girls look good. It's just a fact.

I spun away from a brief encounter with Mari, and glanced into the crowd as I crouched into a sway. Among the blur of faces, I saw bright blue eyes. They were staring right at me, simply fixated. 

I planted my feet and ran a hand down my thighs, winking at Courtney. She giggled, and popped her butt at me in return.

 

***

 

"Noah!" 

The slim brunet cheered at the sight of me bounding towards him. He held out his hands, and I clasped them tightly. 

"Are we going taste testing again?" he asked. "I don't know if I can handle a repeat performance."

I mimed throwing up. He nodded, chuckling. I looked up slyly.

"Dance with me," I requested, wiggling my eyebrows at him. "Two pals breaking it down."

He adjusted his glasses. "That look says otherwise."

I made it more exaggerated, smiling in an almost menacingly way. "Please?"

I hadn't spoken to Shayne once tonight. I kept my eyes averted but my body close, doing my best to stay where he could always see me. I then enjoyed myself. The outbursts of laughter and nearly constant dancing weren't faked, though. This really was great. Occasionally, though, I would catch a glimpse of him, with that pretty girl, dancing or chatting, and my heart would pound fiercely, my stomach would tighten, and I would feel myself start to lose focus.

As though we were attached together. Joined by a string that tugged on our souls and brought fire into our eyes. And string burns very easily.

As I pleaded with Noah, I kept an eye out for him. There. Talking to Sunny. In eyesight. 

With finality, I placed my hand on Noah's elbow. "I need a dance partner, dude."

His eyes brightened. He flipped up his collar, acting all cocky. "And a dance partner you shall have."

We didn't grind or anything like that. We danced, like two best friends, cracking jokes and making fools of ourselves. I imagined forking over some cash to Joe later for this. We impersonated Elvis, practiced some Beyoncé moves, and let one rhythm flow into another flawlessly.

Er, nearly flawlessly.

We'd been at it for roughly twenty minutes when Noah called a break. We were both sweaty and red-faced, laughing in small huffs.

I bent over, placing my hands on my knees and caught my breath. Once I was no longer in danger of passing out, I sauntered over to Sunny and Shayne. My hand landed gently on Sunny's shoulder.

"I've yet to see you on the dance floor," I prodded gently.

Sunny shrugged. "The night is still young."

I giggled and left. Despite myself, I glanced back. Shayne was watching me leave, expression unreadable.


	10. The Distance Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry about the delay on this one; it took a little longer than expected. I hope you like it!

The bathroom lights could only be described as blinding, especially after the dusk of the party. I swept one hand across my forehead, a little grossed out by the sweat there. I shook it off, pulling a disgusted face. Courtney, following me in, sniggered.

"Man," she exclaimed, "we're killing it out there. You and me, dynamic duo, Batman and Robin."

"Like a buddy cop movie," I suggested, making a finger gun.

She pointed at me excitedly. "Yes! How great would that be?"

I turned to the mirror. My makeup was holding up pretty well, just the foundation looking a little wobbly in some places. In the dark, no one would know. Hopefully.

Shayne was still attached to the dance studio babe, never leaving her alone, bringing her into his conversations and getting her to dance with the others. Essentially, he was being a good date. Despite my best efforts.

Stage 1, 2, and 3 were complete. I wasn't going to be pulling my punches. Stage 4 would be the most fun.

Courtney and I high-fived, then exited the bathroom, strutting our stuff.

 

***

 

"Olivia," I called, finally finding her in the mob of people. Why did she have to be so small?

She danced on with her date, oblivious.

"Olivia," I said louder, tapping her shoulder. She spun around, and I shot her date an apologetic look.

I tilted my head towards the crowd next to us. "I need to find a hot boy."

At this time of night, people were beginning to lose themselves in gin and tonics and grinding. The speakers pumped out a steady dose of PG-14: risqué. The bar had been open for hours. Drinks were flowing, people were chatting, mouths were opening. The lights revealed and hid, casting shadows and beams equally. Any self-respecting boy would no longer be self-respecting. As for me, I gave up that right for tonight, and tonight only. No pain, no gain.

Olivia circled me, judging our company. We searched.

Female, mid-twenties, seeking attractive male willing to flirt then forget. 

"Come on," I growled. "There's gotta be at least one."

A short bark of laughter sounded behind me. Olivia pointed to our right.

"Never mind one. How do you feel about three?"

Oh, boy.

Three boys roughly around my age danced nearby. They were certainly friends, from the easy way they interacted, but they had no girls hovering around. From my vantage point, they seemed cute. They also seemed spirited, or a little tipsy; either way, it worked in my favour. 

"Interns?" Olivia inquired. 

"I would assume," I said. "They aren't any YouTubers I recognize."

Thankfully. Just give me a nice worker in advertising, please.

Olivia patted me on the back, and I took a breath. Game time.

I rocked a little as I made my way over, winding through the crowd. I kept a light smile on my face and one eye on them. The closer I got, the more certain I was. These were my boys.

I managed to break into their group with a quick step, catching the attention of the nearest one. I flashed him my most brilliant smile.

"Hi. I don't think I've seen you around before."

He brightened. "No, this is my first year working for YouTube."

"It's pretty nice. The parties are a huge bonus. Almost better than the free keychain," I joked.

He tossed his head back and laughed. The other two turned this way, and we all introduced ourselves.

Copy that, Houston, I have infiltrated their ranks.

Soon we were all goofing around, exchanging stories, and chatting. But it wasn't all innocent. I kept leaning in closer to them, always smiling, looking up through my eyelashes with soft eyes. Cheesy and guaranteed to work. Give them your full attention, drop subtle compliments, giggle at every joke, no matter how bad. I had them all wrapped around my pinky. It was guilt-inducing and exhilarating. 

"Hey," I said suddenly, turning bashful. "Do you want to go get some drinks?"

Liquor is never a bad idea in the art of one-night flirtation. 

We migrated to the bar, weaving past couples, and dodging stray elbows and knees. The sheer amount of people giving into temptation was amazing. The music rang true like a church bell to a desolate community: let it chime, let it chime. Jewelry glinted sharply, hands brushed others and voices lost in the sound of enjoyment didn't matter and didn't care. I passed couples and groups. I passed old friends and new acquaintances. 

Then I passed Shayne. Purely by circumstance. I didn't know he'd be by the bar.

For once, he wasn't making sure his date was having the time of her life. He wasn't talking, smirking, or doing a bit. He wasn't being dumb, stupid, brilliantly unbelievable Shayne. He was watching me, albeit out of the corner of his eye, and he looked pained. 

I held the contact, and gently placed my hand on one of the boy's elbows, resting against his arm. I guffawed at a comment another one made. I tossed my hair, taking the chance to survey Shayne's expression again. 

He looked shocked.

Once we sat down at the bar, I did my best to ignore the victory settled in my chest.

 

***

 

Well. 

It was almost embarrassing how few drinks it took to get us back in the thick of things. 

The alcohol had left a trail of fire down my throat, pooling between my ribs. It stirred anytime I laughed, letting me be a little louder, a little freer. If I was honest, I knew I had drunk more than I should have, downing it with a passion I didn't understand. I needed to keep my head to play this game, this complicated and wild game, but it was so simple: raise the glass, take the shot, dampen the storm in your soul and douse the forest fire in your belly, let it go. I had eventually stopped because I didn't understand. I didn't particularly want to either.

Of course, my company didn't stop when I did. Ah, the upper hand remained mine.

The trio of boys and I went rushing back into the dance floor, leaving drained glasses of cocktails behind. I grasped the tallest one's hand, letting him pull me forwards. We stumbled, almost knocking over a small lady. Faces blurred as I ran by. I saw Mari and Peter. I saw Lasercorn. I saw Matt Raub, each arm around a girl, breaking it down. I saw almost all my friends, gathering into a group again. They were assembling into the ultimate dance group again. I waved frantically at Olivia and Courtney, then dug my heels into the floor, successfully hauling the boys to a stop. They all turned to look at me, grins beautifully lopsided. I didn't let go of Tall Boy's hand.

"This is a good spot," I said, breathless. I wanted my group in sight. I had to have that. "Come on, guys, let's do it."

I began to rock my hips to the rhythm, starting slow but getting more daring, urging the trio to keep up. And they did, stepping closer so we formed a tight group, mere inches away from contact. I fisted my hands in my hair and rolled my neck back, tilting my face to the sky and the disco lights. I closed my eyes

Now, I don't believe in soulmates. But that DJ and I had something going on, because they gradually transitioned into the sexy playlist. Considering the hollers from the crowd, it was much appreciated.

I did my best to flirt through motion. That is truly an art. Nearly brush up against the other and give a continuous small smile. Tiny hints that drive the other crazy. I worked my butt like no other. I tried to show off my waist.

Sometimes, a beat possesses you, taking control, so you forget you're even moving until you open your eyes and see the ones you dream of staring back. It's hypnotic, knowing your chest is heaving when you barely feel anything but air on skin and lips on lips and those eyes are there, holding you hostage.

And they're pissed.

It jarred me out of my dream-like trace, my eyes flying wide open. Shayne was staring me down, not even trying to hide it. He wasn't paying attention to his plus-one, nor to his own casual dancing. He was paying attention to one thing only.

That's right. All this time, these hours spent on this mastermind plan, the stress and the effort, the fear of losing something so dear to me, the unfairness, the goddamn weeks of my life that I wasn't getting back, all fucking worth it for that look. That look that said he was feeling what I did, and maybe he didn't understand why, but he understood what.

The music changed. It faded, then came thumping back with the filthiest song yet. The atmosphere switched in an instant. The air grew warm. The bass line thrummed. Shayne's expression hardened, and my heart skipped a beat.

As everyone shuffled together, he snuck closer to dance girl. His dancing grew more precise, more determined, and she spun to face him, gyrating her body, and he didn't blink, and the lights were pink and red and low, and his hands slowly lowered, landed on her waist, and pulled her against his thigh and she wrapped her arms around his neck, and the mass of dancers never stopped but didn't seem to move, and he wasn't looking away, wasn't breaking the stare as he threw the emotions back in my face with a wad of contempt for good measure and I. Wasn't. Breathing.

Play the game, right? Beat the opponent. Top them. Call their bluff.

Think you've won?

Think again, pretty boy.

In one swift motion, I twirled myself around, stepped right up against Tall Boy, and grinded against him hard. He gasped, hands gripping my sides, fingertips pressing into my hipbones as he hauled me close and we danced like people gone mad. I rested my back against his front, leaning my head back and letting my mouth fall open as we moved together, his pelvis moving in time with me. My dress rode up a little, showing higher up my thighs, and one of his hands crept down to stroke the exposed skin lightly, then coming right back up to hold on. I rubbed my ass on the front of his pants, bobbing up and down gracefully. He guided my movements, mumbling under his breath. His grip would possibly leave bruises. He almost seemed to be grabbing on for dear life as I grinded and rolled for the sake of winning, taking him on a ride he couldn't even begin to comprehend.

I wasn't functioning properly without Shayne, but he didn't know that, he took advantage of that, and he had to know that, so I reached up behind and wound my arm around Tall Boy's neck. My tongue darted out, licking the dryness of the lipstick. I traced a small pattern on his throat, then dropped into a low squat and worked my way back up, hands trailing up my torso. This was dirty dancing for revenge. And oh, it was dirty.

I lost my train of thought, focusing on all the moves I knew from romantic movies or being in clubs. Who I was dancing with didn't matter, it was a body near mine, and I tried to make closeness sexy, which is easy when you've been drinking.

Then a hand wrapped around my wrist, and I was harshly tugged out of Tall Boy's reach. He shouted something, which I couldn't understand. A broad form dragged me away. The lighting sent bizarre shadows flicking over us, making it hard to see. I jerked after them, nearly tripping because of their pure force. A couple of steps later, hidden from view by other party-goers, they stopped, spinning around.

"What the hell are you doing?" Shayne asked through gritted teeth.

I was speechless for a moment. Then I sputtered, "W-what am I doing? What are you doing?"

He folded his arms, narrowing his eyes. "Who even is that?"

"What sort of question is that?" I snapped. "I'm dancing with him."

"That looked like more than dancing," he muttered.

I pressed my lips together. I'd had enough.

"What about you and your little girlfriend over there? We weren't doing anything you weren't."

"She's not my girlfriend," he growled.

My fists clenched. "Why is she here then? So you can do your thing? Another girl you dance with in dark rooms then forget about right after you fuck her?" I spat.

Shayne took a step back, away from the pure venom in my voice. I was trembling, my throat tight and eyes watery. I didn't feel good. Dancing with Tall Boy hadn't felt good, I was numb and angry and hurt. Yes, hurt, my heart simply aching every time I looked at him, but I'd been denying it. Covering my shame and longing with rage, pumping the dark red through my veins into my lungs until I was breathing in the lies I'd constructed, believing them, living with them. As if I was mad at him for sleeping with me, what a joke, it was equally my fault. So, if it wasn't anger twisting and churning in my gut, then what was it, what had driven me crazy when I saw his hands on her, what emotion could push us this far, what did we feel, why did people get revenge?

So they can have what someone else does.

They envy the other.

They're jealous. 

I looked at Shayne, and I knew he was looking at me and realizing the exact same thing.

"I never forgot," he said quietly, stepping forwards. "I only brought her because Olivia and Courtney made me."

I felt wretched and ridiculous, standing in this tight dress, the proof of my lack of sense. Our faces were close, glowing in the party lights. The pulse of dancers around us made a shifting, distant background, fading away as we tried to understand. I couldn't say anything.

Shayne studied me, expression sad, which only served to confuse me more. 

"If you didn't want to forget," I whispered, "why didn't you come to me?"

He swallowed. "I think we need to talk."

It was too much. I thought I knew what was going on, but the world had been tugged out from under my feet. I was falling, falling, with no idea of where I was going. 

I shook my head, backing away. "I don't know. I just... I don't know."

I spun around and hurried away, pushing through the crowd as I ran away from the thought that I'd been wrong.

 

***

 

I took a taxi home. The city lights raced by, a reminder of the lives all around, doing their own thing, happy and sad and all in between. With the radio playing softly and my hands shaking in my lap, the entire way back to my apartment, all I could think was, "What happened to us?"


	11. A Seemingly Endless Circle of Temptation and Aggravation

"You went home early!" Noah complained. "I learned a new dance move but couldn't show you!"

I gestured at the floor. "Please, now's the time."

Noah rose, prepared to demonstrate his dancing prowess, as Keith and I clapped him on. We were flopped on the bean bag chairs, limbs sprawled in a complete mess. Everyone in the office was suffering to a certain extent today. We'd all stayed up to late, spent too much energy, drank a lot. Matt Raub hadn't come in at all. Sohinki was permanently wearing sunglasses, and Mari screeched if you talked too loud. The Squad was a little more chill. So here I was.

Shayne hadn't arrived yet. At 10:22, he was roughly an hour and a half late, leaving us all debating whether he'd come in or not. 

Was it petty of me to hope that he wouldn't? Probably. 

But my lingering hangover was nothing like the lingering effects of his words against mine, our hearts pumping in time as we spat words like gunshots, aiming to kill, stepping closer so we'd die together, in the blood of own rivalry. 

No amount of coffee could cure this headache.

 

***

 

The door to the office opened, creaking slightly as usual. I continued tapping out my next story, frowning when a synonym failed to come to me.

"Hey, do you guys know where the Bop 'Em Sock 'Ems are?"

Embarrassingly enough, my head snapped up at the sound of Shayne's voice. He stood in the doorway, beanie crooked on his head, scanning our faces. I knew I wasn't imagining it when he examined me longer than the rest.

Even if I'd had my doubts, Mari gave me a very obvious look, that no doubt everyone noticed.

Joven perked up at the sight of him. "Dude! C'mere and check this bad boy out!"

Shayne made his way over to Joshua's desk. As he passed me, I stood up abruptly, nearly knocking into him with my chair.

I ran my hand through my hair, taking a breath. Of course he came into my office with those stupid blue eyes and dumbass hat, trying to figure me out, trying to talk about it. I wasn't ready to talk about it. I didn't want to talk about it. For once, I didn't understand my own mind nor my heart, which scared me enough without him strutting in and making it harder to breathe. So I walked out. 

It took a lot of willpower to not look back.

 

***

 

My computer screen glowed in the fading light. The sun was setting over L.A., a dull orange glow, and everyone had begun to vacate the building. I stayed put, reading a certain email over and over. Flitz had sent it to me a day ago.

_Yo,_

_Those last few stories were great. They feel really real, like you lived it in another life. I sort of believe that you're the reincarnated spirit of a teenage girl and a wise man rolled into one._

_Seriously though, props on these. They're solid. I mean it._

The emotions in my last pieces were more real, more present, pouring out my fingers onto the keyboard, creating paragraphs that seemed to exist on their own. I ought to have been glad about that. I was glad about that.

I sat at the computer for twenty more minutes, the email open, wondering and wishing.


	12. Two People Enter a Room

"How do we keep misplacing props?!" Sunny yelled, tossing a sweater to the side in his desperate search.

I reminded myself for the umpteenth time to organize our offices. We'd been searching for a stupid hat for fifteen minutes. It was one of those baseball games one, with the two cups on either side and straws dangling down by the wearer's mouth. Joe had called Sunny and I away from the set to help look for it. Five minutes ago, we'd called everyone else into action. Now we were tearing the place apart. I groaned, rolling my shoulders. This shouldn't be that hard.

"I left it right on the couch!" I heard Anthony shout down the hall, followed by Olivia's scream of desperation. 

Finally, Joe gathered us all in the office. He stood on a chair, his mustache giving him the impeccable appearance of an army general. The Squad, Sunny, Anthony, Ian, and I stood before him. 

"We'll split up," he instructed, "like a goddamn Scooby-Doo movie. Noah, Keith, and Olivia, check the Smosh Games office. Sunny and Courtney, check the first three rooms in our office. Ian and Anthony, check the last four. And you two," he pointed at Shayne and I, "can check the prop room."

Ah, fuck.

Courtney and Noah sent me panicked looks, for two completely different reasons.

"That place is a mess!" Noah said, eyes stretching wide. "You guys are gonna be in there for days."

Courtney adjusted her top. "You, uh... You guys all good?"

We couldn't protest. That would make things uncomfortable for everyone else. And there was no logical explanation for why we couldn't. We would have to stick it out.

Shayne and I had been back to the old avoidance routine. It was getting old, and I couldn't stop thinking about him, my former best friend, my wonderful goofball. I couldn't hate him anymore, believe me, I'd tried, but it wouldn't come. I just got lonely when I saw him, my heart rate increasing, as I would ask myself what exactly he'd meant.

"I never forgot," he had said. That didn't compute.

Some quiet part of me whispered that I was running, running hard and fast, fleeing from the idea that we might never- 

Forget it. We had to find that prop.

Everyone took off, swearing they'd be the first to find it. Footsteps sounded all over the office. A few editors popped out of their rooms to see the commotion, some laughing, some confused. Down the hall, there was a loud clatter followed by an even louder curse as Keith dropped something. Despite all the hubbub around us, Shayne and I walked in silence.

I was very aware of him next to me, arms swinging rhythmically, but I kept my eyes set forwards, mouth in a determined line. His presence threw me off, like a teenager with their crush. Pretty pathetic, if you think about it.

We neared the doorway, bearing a sign labeled in sloppy handwriting 'Props'. Very creative. I gripped the handle, and braced myself, swinging open the door in one smooth movement.

Oh. My. God.

This room was notorious for being messy, but nothing had prepared me for this. I hadn't been in here for only a month, and it didn't even look like the same room. Without the lights on, all I could see was huge piles scattered everywhere, but I knew; this was going to be awful.

"Fuck," Shayne said behind me.

Despite myself, I giggled, and he chuckled in return. I glanced over my shoulder at him, saw that wonderful smile, and for a moment, believed nothing could be wrong.

Then I remembered, and the happiness slid off my face. I faced forwards, setting my shoulders. 

"Hey," Shayne said softly, but I ignored it. I walked in, gazing around at the disaster we were supposed to conquer. A small sigh sounded behind me. Then Shayne entered, and closed the door.

It went pitch black. There were no windows in here, just a single bulb that wasn't even on. Lifting my hands, I couldn't see them until they were almost brushing my nose.

"Shayne, turn the lights on," I said.

No response. I frowned. 

"Shayne?"

"Can we just... Talk?"

I closed my eyes, not like it mattered. The caution in his voice was devastating, like I was a wild animal poised to flee. That's essentially what I was. Something new in me had been born after that fateful night, a hotel room containing secrets even the holders didn't discuss, don't look, don't talk, just... Regret.

I wish I'd dealt with this sooner. I wish I hadn't run away from that room. I wish I had Shayne.

I spun around. "Turn the lights on."

"Can we talk first? This is the first time we've spoken in a week."

"Turn. The lights. On."

"No."

Frustrated, I lunged forward, hand grasping for the light switch, but somehow he knew, he knew me too well, and he blocked the way so we were standing chest to chest and breathing the same air and feeling the same pull and knowing what this emotion was but thinking the other didn't have it.

They say when one sense is taken away, the others grow stronger in its place. I say evolution really did a good job on that one. I could hear his breathing, a soft sigh that filled the room. I could feel the faintest brush of his shirt against mine, and I could smell his cologne, a scent so familiar and welcome that it reminded me of home. 

But just because he had me locked inside a room with him didn't mean I was inclined to talk.

He inhaled. "I just want to say, first, that it sucks not talking to you."

I held my tongue.

"You know, we hung out a lot, and now we don't, but uh..."

Silence from my end.

He exhaled. "You didn't have to get mad at me. We both messed up."

... Hold it.

"What? I wasn't mad at you. I was trying to be friends again. You were the one who started avoiding me," I said accusingly.

I could picture his eyes widening. "No, I wasn't. You started that whole thing."

"After we... uh... Oh, fuck it. After we had SEX the second time, you weren't exactly- No, wait! After the FIRST time even! You kept pretending like nothing was wrong, even though I was obviously shaken up."

"I thought you wanted time to figure things out!"

"Of course you don't respect that now," I muttered.

Shayne's foot bumped mine in the dark. "I thought you hated me. I didn't want to ruin-"

"What?!" I gasped. "Why would I hate you?"

"I don't know! Why would you avoid me?"

"I don't know!"

Something shifted in front of me. "I... I didn't want to destroy our friendship," he said.

I blinked. "I was thinking the same thing."

A long pause grew between us. Beyond the door, people ran about. A whole other situation was going on. The world kept spinning. But my mind was trapped in this very small room, with two people with a very small difference between them. 

I frowned. "So we started being friends again, right, before the party? But you invited that girl."

Shayne groaned. "Olivia had already told her about the party. I would have looked like an asshole if I didn't bring her."

"You could have told her."

"Told her what? 'Sorry, I slept with my co-worker twice so we can't go to a party together'. That's really pathetic."

"You could have told her you had feelings for someone else," I said quietly.

He paused. "But… you…"

The urge to run built up, a screaming tower rising through my ribs. I fought against it. You stepped in the deep end. Might as well swim out all the way.

"We... Have a connection. Right?" I asked worriedly. "You know what I mean. We can't stay away from each other, which really fucked us over, but that's okay, because it proves that we are meant to be, I don’t know, together? Is that too cheesy?"

Shayne remained quiet. My first thought was that this was revenge for earlier. My second was that I had made a, believe it or not, third, wild, incredibly shitty decision. 

"When I woke up in that hotel room," he began softly, "and I saw your phone, I remembered right away. The dancing, the laughing, the..." His hand brushed against mine in the darkness, warm, and my breath caught. "I thought I'd gone and screwed up my chances. Especially when we met in the halls, and the panic on your face. I still don't get how no one noticed. I could barely look away.

"And then it was getting better, and I thought we might be alright, but the second time killed me. I left that time, because I was embarrassed that I'd done that to you. Not only once. Twice. I never wanted that." His words had me transfixed, staring, into the deep black where I knew he stood, looking back, across a gap so small and yet so large. "I left you only because I didn't want to create an even bigger mistake. I really liked you, always did, for a really long time. You're right. There's a connection, and I didn't think you felt it, but now that I know you do, I feel like maybe we are okay after all." Our fingers skimmed. "I really like you. I'm sorry for... You know. Pretty much everything."

My eyes were adjusting. I could see his outline, unmistakable, and my heart tugged and tugged and tugged-

And I pulled my fingers away.

Instantly, I felt the hurt and embarrassment radiating off him. 

Yet a smile grew on my face, despite it all, all the questions that raged on and the feelings I couldn't comprehend. Not everything could be solved. Something in me, however, begged to differ.

"Maybe we will be okay."

I stepped around him, and he let me go. The confusion, yet hopefulness, was palpable. I honestly felt the same. 

I was willing to let hope win this one. 

With one hand, I flicked on the light, and with the other, I opened the door and stepped out.


	13. Daydreaming in Short Story Form, Part 3

_The radio sang sweetly, a gentle tune filling the air. Lights dimmed outside, day giving way to evening. A pink-orange tinge offered the world a new perspective. She swayed, a little out of rhythm, perfectly happy._

_Then, she heard it. Very briefly, a faint humming came through the wall. Freezing in place, she listened closely. There it was again. A rich humming, from her one and only neighbor._

_It gave her another reason to smile. With a flick of her hair, she twirled around, letting her feet thud on the floor, letting him know. He did seem to know._

_A musical man. That delicate presence was a warm one, and she laughed a little, thinking of how ridiculous they were. What a pair. She had never laid eyes on him. But she could visualize him crystal clear, as though he were a picture hanging in her hall. She thought he must like to hear her laugh._

_One hand slowly turned up the volume, until they were dancing, together yet apart, separated by a paper wall._


	14. Turn Back the Clock and Let Me Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry for the lomg wait on this. I'll try to get better about that!

Olivia burst into our office, eyes alight with excitement. It immediately caught my attention.

I hadn't seen her this hyper since she'd helped me try to seduce our co-worker.

"Guys!" she cried. "There are muffins in the break room!"

Perhaps this got us moving a little quicker than it should have. But soon enough, Lasercorn and I were charging down the hall, Mari cursing our longer legs from behind. The carpet barely muffled the sound of our stampede.

I skidded around a corner, nearly wiping out, before bounding into the break room, ahead of the others. I cheered.

"First pick for first place!"

Wes, cheeks already stuffed with pastries, applauded. A tantalizing box lay in the center of the table. I snuck closer. Oh, baked delights, come to me!

I'd hardly even noticed Shayne sitting on the chair nearest to me. I smiled at him, simultaneously smacking Joven's fingers away from the delicacies. He returned the smile, genuinely. My heart fluttered, pathetically enough.

My attention quickly diverted back to the goods at hand. I peered down.

"Are there any chocolate chip ones left?"

Immediately, Shayne leaned in and plucked one out of the box. He handed it to me, eyes alight. 

"I like your shirt," he commented.

Ah, yes, my precious monkey-wearing-feather-boa shirt. A classic. 

"Thanks," I said, taking the muffin. "I picked it out myself."

Without any qualms (well, like, almost any), I sat on the arm of his chair. We all talked and joked, like the giant dorky family we were, and by the end of it, I didn't feel so bad. 

 

***

 

I cracked my knuckles, trying to disperse any stiffness within them. I had just finished another short story, flying through the process in mere hours, and now sat looking at my email. With the document attached, all that was left to do was enter the addressees. 

A few clicks later, and it was on its way to Flitz and Shayne.

 

***

 

A lot of us in this office were not morning people. The sunlight beginning to warm up our room did nothing to please Sohinki, nor did it wipe away the shadows under Wes' eyes. When I crept in, I was fully aware that the slightest noise could disrupt these sleepy beasts. 

The hum of computers resonated. I thought I was doing well, but Lasercorn turned around with a dark look in his eyes. Uh oh.

"Lucky," he grumbled.

Um. What?

"... Sorry?" I offered, confused.

With his eyes still lingering on me, I awkwardly shuffled to my desk. Then it hit me.

That glorious, heavenly smell.

A small paper bag sat on my desk, with a blue sticky note attached. From within this bag emerged a scent so wonderful, I debated just shoving the whole thing in my mouth on the spot. I plucked off the note.

It read, _"DO NOT TOUCH IF YOU DO NOT SIT HERE! (That means you, Wes and Mari.)"_

I peered inside, and nearly passed out with joy. The world's most delicious looking cinnamon roll lay there, with thick icing and generous swirls of cinnamon. Feeling like a child on Christmas, I pulled it out and took a large bite.

"Fuck yes," I whispered. It was still warm!

Turning back to the note (with some mental and emotional difficulty), I examined the handwriting. A slanted, quick scrawl, in thin blue pen. My heart soared. 

I knew that handwriting just as well as my own.

 

***

 

The taste of my morning pastry lingered, causing me to lick my lips every few seconds, getting the most out of it as possible. Leaving the office behind, I strolled by the editors, past a meeting, and slipped into the next corridor. I myself carried a paper bag. 

This hallway was suspiciously quiet. I could hear the sounds of someone's phone call, but otherwise, nothing. A beanbag chair lay abandoned. A couple of pool noodles sprawled sadly. Nothing like the bustle of activity and calamity of noise I was used to.

Still, I crept along. Tiptoeing, sneaking, lurking, etc. No need to be seen, no sir. Coming across the target door, I poked my head in, found it abandoned, and made my way over to the opposing desk. I had slapped the same note I'd received on it, the message remaining the same. I stood back, admiring my handiwork. The contents were perfect.

Earl gray with a shot of peppermint and a bit of whipped cream.


	15. The Coincidence, The Skit, and The Wardrobe

"We thought you could play Carly."

I bit my lip, looking up at Ian and Anthony. All three of us were clearly trying not to bust a gut.

"T-This, uh," I cleared my throat, "this is the best script we've had in a long time."

Ian nodded eagerly. "Noah wrote this one."

I glanced down at the page, and giggles rose up in me again. "Give that kid a goddamn Oscar."

The next Smosh skit lay in my hands, and it was brilliant. A guy named Craig goes broke, and must move in with his friends, Tom and Carly. But after living there for awhile, Craig discovers some noises that sound a lot like Tom and Carly banging. When he asks them to stop, they say they aren't having sex. Craig tries to catch them in the act, but every time Tom and Carly are doing normal things, but in weird locations and/or sex positions. 

Basically, it was the funniest fucking thing I'd ever read.

"Courtney isn't going to play Carly?" I asked.

Anthony shook his head. "We immediately thought of you for this. So did Noah."

It would hardly be my first Smosh skit. The anticipation and joy started building up in me.

I agreed to it happily. We discussed it further, suppressing bursts of laughter. Eventually, as we were getting up to leave, a thought came to mind.

"Who's playing Tom?"

Anthony beamed. "Shayne is."

 

***

 

I wandered around the set, dodging cameras and people. We were doing some last minute set ups and line learning, waiting to get called in to film. I glanced around. The clock read 11:30 AM. The murmurs of the crew filled the air, a subtle reminder of what was about to go down. 

Entering the hallway, I delicately adjusted a crooked picture. I loved the Smosh House. So many good memories lingered here, from all the way back in 2011, when I first met Ian and Anthony, to now, where sketches were filmed, sleepovers had, friendship celebrated. Super cheesy sounding? Yes. But so true. 

I heard Ryan yell something, and snapped back into focus. Lines. Right. I scanned the script I held, murmuring a particularly stubborn phrase under my breath. Rounding a corner, I nearly bumped into Noah. A smile lit up my face as I backtracked.

"Hey, you ready?" I inquired, motioning to the copy of the skit he held.

"Hell yeah," he replied, unable to contain his energy. His fingers fidgeted. "This is gonna be so much fun."

Noah would be playing Craig, the victim of this sexy situation. I would be the delinquent causing this situation. I was trying not to think of who was intended as my partner in crime.

"'Sup."

Ah, speak of the devil.

Shayne waved his script at us, the paper flopping around. "They're done setting up. Are you guys ready?"

Um, no. Not really.

But I followed the boys out, abandoning my script somewhere along the way. The multitude of people in the house had crammed themselves out of the camera's line of view, and were awaiting our presence. Ryan yelled, "Phones," and we dropped ours in a basket out of reach. That rule had been introduced recently, due to Anthony and Olivia's inability to keep their phone on silent. I stood in position, by the front door. This would be my first sketch in awhile; my focus had been on introducing new ideas to Smosh Games for roughly half a year. I fiddled with the ends of my hair. Someone called out, and I posed myself, ready.

Noah knocked on the door, and I hurried to open it. 

"Craig!" I cried. "Welcome to our home!"

He dragged an empty suitcase in. "Thanks for letting me stay on such short notice, Carly. I was super worried for awhile."

I shook my head. "Don't even worry about it. Tom and I love having more people around. Speaking of which," I turned around, "where is he? Tom!"

Shayne walked into frame, pulling Noah in for a rough hug. "Craig, it's good to see you!"

"You too, man," Noah replied. "I don't mean to intrude or anything, you know."

Shayne slid one arm around my waist, leaning in. "You aren't intruding at all."

It was all going great for me up until that moment.

His hand rested lightly on my hip, and I couldn't remember how long it'd been since we had casual contact. We had always been inseparable, spiritually and usually physically, a tangle of limbs on top of a beanbag. I strove to keep my pleasant smile on for the scene. Thank God I didn't have anymore lines.

"We're gonna do it again," Ryan told us from across the room. "Just for safety, alright?"

So we did, running the scene through with our lovely personas, and this time I gently rested my hand on Shayne's chest when he tugged me in. As the cut ended, I moved close to his ear and whispered, "Foreshadowing." He giggled, dropping his arm.

We lounged around the living room while Noah did his bit outside. With Ryan gone, we snuck our phones out of the basket, like kids stealing candy. Call us addicts, or something. I rested my head back against the couch. This would either turn out the best Behind the Scenes ever, or the worst. Hilarious, or tense? My eyes strayed to Shayne strewn over the other couch, but snapped back.

The front door swung open, and we scrambled to get our phones back in the box. We tried acting naturally so no one would know. After that obvious dash, however, it was impossible, and our 'acting natural' was more like 'Greek statues revisited'. Noah laughed when he saw us, and jogged over.

"We're doing costume changes, come on."

Oh goody. 

 

***

 

"Hey," I called out from the flimsy curtain dressing room, "do we have a camera out there?"

Noah shouted back an affirmative, and I instructed them to point it over here. My hands fiddled with my costume briefly, making sure it looked good, which felt ridiculous. This costume was... Something else.

I was wearing lingerie.

Well, lingerie sewn onto skin-toned clothing so I wouldn't actually be half-naked on set, but it was really stereotypical lingerie. A red bra and panty set with an over abundance of black lace and bows. To tell the truth, the costume department was a gift from God. They'd managed to make this look sexy, yet a little too over the top to be genuinely attractive. 

"Hey boys," I purred, sauntering out from behind the curtain, pursing my lips and fluttering my eyelashes. "Like what yo- OH GOD!"

I purposely tripped over a prop laying on the group, toppling completely down and ruining any image of appeal I might have previously had. Noah sniggered with delight, and extended a hand, helping me to my feet. 

"I thought about coming out and saying 'I don't know if I like this outfit, Grandma'," I said as I was hoisted up. 

Noah laughed again, clapping joyously and nearly making me fall backwards. 

"Ladies, the life-sized Ken doll is here."

We both turned and then spluttered. Shayne was posing for us in nothing but boxers with little hearts on them. Incredible.

Our fun ended when Ryan shouted for us to get our asses on set. We were starting in the bathroom. A wardrobe lady passed Shayne a fluffy bathrobe, and tossed me a matching pink one.

"Gotta be pink for the girl," I grumbled, shuffling past the camera crew and into an already crowded bathroom. "Can't have a girl in a white robe, or, heaven forbid, a blue one."

I stepped carefully into the tub, even though it was bone dry. Our first shot of the 'sexy' times consisted of me leaning against the shower wall and Shayne posed behind me, hands on my hips. The twist was that I would 'actually' be scrubbing the shower wall and Tom was making sure I didn't fall over. Pretty normal sexual stuff. Whatever. I got in my pose, wiggling my eyebrows at the camera. I was excited to be actively part of a shoot again. Pondering over how I ought to react when the shower curtain got ripped open, I hardly noticed Shayne entering the tub as well.

But I did notice his hands resting softly on my hips, and how close his pelvis was to my butt. 

This couldn't be real.

Neither of us spoke, just sort of stood there as the crew did some final prep. Someone shut the curtain, enveloping us in a world of white and silence. Boy howdy, only in Smosh could this happen. I didn't know if I wanted to laugh or cry.

My mouth moved without my brain's consent. "Does this bathrobe make my butt look big?"

He chuckled, then Ryan called for quiet on set, and we got in actor mode. A slight pause, then Noah yanked the curtain open, and we both startled. 

"Oh God," Noah shielded his eyes. "I'm so sorry, oh God."

I peered over my shoulder back at Shayne, puzzled. "What? We're just cleaning the shower."

Noah slowly uncovered his eyes. "Why are you both- I don't- You don't have to lie to me."

I brought my hands into view, holding up a cleaner bottle and cloth. I gave him my best "duh" look, and Ryan called cut. 

He had his maniacal director face on. "I love it, that's great," he snorted, rubbing his hands together. "Okay, bedroom next."

I offered my hand to Noah in a pretentious manner. "Ooh, the bedroom, darling."

The three of us proceeded, those two rehearsing lines, myself pretending to rehearse while truthfully remembering how that scene would be on the Internet forever. Hm. Best not think about it. 

The bedroom had been redecorated for this scene, bedspread a rich purple, a new nightstand, and numerous candles. A slight breeze blew through the long dark curtains, until I shut the window. This certainly was fancy. Shayne threw himself on the bed and folded his arms behind his head, releasing a long sigh.

"So comfy..."

I glanced quickly at my script. This was the scene where I was feeding him strawberries in an, ahem, entirely non-sexual way. Absolutely not while we were both in our fake underwear. I crawled on the bed and stopped by his ribcage, kneeling. I leaned forwards and-

"Um, do you know what scene we're on?"

I raised my head, surprised. Wasn't this the strawberries one? I could have sworn this was page 3. 

Ryan stared pointedly at Shayne's torso. "This is the cowgirl scene."

Oh.

Carly, sitting directly on Tom's stomach, would straddle him as Craig walked in. She would then hold up a previously hidden book, and claim they were reading. 

Heart pounding, I refused to meet Shayne's eyes, although I could feel him watching me. I shifted down, and, closing my eyes, swung my leg over him quickly. My weight rested down just above his hips, knees pressed tight against his sides. As I tried to lessen the weight on him, I lost balance, and caught myself with my hands on his chest. His skin felt so warm. I gulped, and looked up. 

His eyes met mine, the sharp blue not feeling cold anymore, and the hilarity of the situation fully hit us, the unbelievable coincidences and feelings that lead us here, and we laughed and laughed and laughed.


	16. Daydreaming in Short Story Form, Part 4

_The entrance before him was bizarrely plain, a simple white that seemed to glow in contrast to the tan walls of the apartment building. He cleared his throat, tugging on his button-up shirt in an effort to disperse the creases lining it. Down the hall, a door slammed._

_If he were entirely honest, he shouldn’t have even been standing there. But he could hear a radio singing softly, sweetly, and the sounds emanating from behind a closed door that he wished would be closed no longer called him, and he could picture a radiant smile. Pulling on his shirt again, he raised one fist, and knocked._

_Moments later, familiar footsteps hurried towards him._

_The door swung open quickly, and there stood a woman. She seemed to glow, a being with cosmic energy that filled her lungs compared to his steady heartbeat beating only a little bit faster. They regarded each other for a moment, and he wondered if she knew who he was._

_That smile said she very well might._

_“Hello,” he began, lifting his chin a little. “I’m your neighbor.”_

_With those words her eyes crinkled at the corners and dimples appeared on her cheeks, and he had never seen a smile so beautiful._

_She stepped backwards, her feet bare, and widened the door. “Please, come in.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reminding me to get my butt in gear and finish this. It's almost done!  
> As always, I'd love to hear your comments and questions.


	17. The World Within a Raindrop (It's Small and Beautiful)

"Okay, okay," I wheezed, flapping one hand to grab their attention, "hear me out. No, legit, listen. What if, bear with me, what if we went on the biggest roller coaster in the U.S.?"

"Stop it!" Keith shrieked, and we all collapsed into fits again. I thought I might throw up from laughing so hard, rolling around on my green beanbag chair. Courtney, across from me, frantically tried to wipe away the mascara running down her face. We were playing everyone's favourite game: Terrify Keith. Joe had requested that we come up with some ideas for future Squad Vlogs, or Smosh Games Cell Outs episodes. It had inevitably dissolved into this.

"I'm actually gonna kill you," Keith said through gritted teeth, but he too was smiling wide.

Noah shook his head. "Not until you go bungee jumping with us."

Keith whacked Noah's arm, and I tumbled off the beanbag chair, landing directly on Shayne. I threw my arm across his chest, his shudders of hysteria only making me laugh even more.

"I'm gonna pass out," he cried in a weak voice, face bright red. "Oh god, please, we gotta stop."

Olivia perked up. "Yeah, we gotta stop by the haunted house this year."

It seemed nothing could stop us, and Keith's outrageous reactions only fueled the fire. I stretched out, almost choking, across Shayne, who hid his cheeks behind his hands. I poked at them, teasing him over his tomato skin tone. 

"Get out," he snorted, giving me a light shove. I retorted with an elbow to the chest, and he gave up. We lay there on the floor until an editor came and chewed us out for being so loud, then Joe came and chewed us out for coming up with nothing, and then we all hid in the Smosh Games office.

It didn't even occur to me that we were back to where we started, or maybe even further.

 

***

 

“Hello?”

I blinked, tearing my eyes away from my computer monitor. It took me a moment to recognize how dark it had gotten, the time flying away under my nose. The rest of the Smosh Games squad had gone home at least two hours ago. I had remained, furiously trying to finish some half-baked ideas for Game Bang.

“What’s up?”

 I turned my gaze to the figure leaning in the doorway. Shayne, one arm reaching back to stretch casually. I smiled softly.

“Hey. I’m almost done here.”  He nodded, and a pause grew between us. I began the process of shutting down and saving every document I had open. The building creaked, settling, as though bidding us goodnight.

“Can I ask you something?”

I startled, taken aback by the way the words came blurting out of his mouth, almost as if without his permission. His eyes peered intently into mine. Sensing the change of atmosphere, I rolled my chair away from the desk, presenting him with my full attention. A hauntingly familiar feeling crept into my chest, and I fought to push it away, to ignore the nerves. Admittedly, they were hard to push aside.

Shayne almost appeared to regret saying anything. He backtracked carefully, eyebrows furrowing. “I mean, I was just wondering how you’re doing.”

It wasn’t phrased like a trap, it wasn’t even phrased like a question, but I knew this reached beyond the norms of everyday conversation.

I thought about my answer. I thought about how I should answer. It was difficult to put to words these last few days, and I wanted to do them justice. I wanted to express myself clearly, but it didn’t seem to come, for all my mind supplied was images of clear skies and yellow dresses and a smirk that belonged to my heart and those weren’t things I could say aloud, waxing poetic about repairing the guitar strings on my soul, beginning to sing once again and hearing a clear, distinct harmony that had previously gone unnoticed. I wondered if he would understand what I meant if I said I felt like the hour after a rainstorm, or the sparks of a bonfire, and some part of me knew he would, of course he would, but I didn’t say it. I didn’t tell him that. I just met that clear gaze, and grinned.

“I’m good. How are you?”

It was beautiful, the way he read my mind, and beamed in return, knowing all I wanted to say without knowing the half of it.

“I’m pretty good myself.”

 

***

 

My feet sent splashes of water across the wet sidewalk, absentmindedly letting my sneakers get soaked. It had rained all day yesterday, a rare occurrence for L.A., causing a few strangers to clutch an umbrella at their side, glancing untrustingly at the sky occasionally.

“Wonder when Mari and Peter are gonna get hitched.”

I shrugged. “It has been awhile. They’re cute.”

Courtney hopped over a large puddle, her blonde ponytail swinging. “Yeah, well, he’d better hop to it then.”

We wandered aimlessly, my hands crammed into tiny jeans’ pockets, letting a cool wind pull at our hair and whisk around our faces. The slight pressure calmed me, reminded me of vague memories of running around outside as a kid, screeching, and tossing myself into the deepest puddle I could find.

“Things are good,” Courtney stated after a long pause. “The channels are doing really well.”

I glanced over at her, smiling. “You sound almost surprised.”

She smiled back, but it wasn’t her usual goofy, carefree look. It was soft, pensive almost. “I guess I’m just really glad to be doing this, y’know? We have a crazy job.”

“Amen to that,” I responded in a heartfelt manner.

We rounded a corner, dodging a group of tourists bumbling around with oversized maps. Cars rumbled past, slowed down by traffic lights and each other.

“We’d better turn back,” I said. “Our lunch break will be over soon.”

As if we were one being, we turned in time and began the trek back home.

A street sign with papers littering its post snapped into focus. A spark of mischief ignited in my mind.

“Race you to that stop sign!” I hollered, already taking off.

“Not fair!” Courtney shouted, pounding after me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't be shy to leave your comments, questions, concerns, etc., down below! <3


	18. The Long and Winding Road

I finally made good on my promise to clean the prop room.

Three hours ago, I’d announced my goal to straighten the place up in order to make it resemble less of a dump and more of a creative space. A piece of slightly ripped loose-leaf haphazardly taped on the door warned all that whoever disturbed this process, and therefore potentially screw up my system, would either lose a limb or their life.

I pushed out a sigh, wiping the back of my hand against my forehead. Okay, one half of the room made me feel good. The rest, however, could be better. And that was being generous.

This may have been a mistake.

My shoes had been kicked off long ago, starting my decline into a dishevelled mess. I’d expected to be alone here all day, so I’d tossed my flannel on a chair at the beginning, bearing my tank top to the world, and couldn’t spot the plaid fabric anymore.

That also may have been a mistake.

My hands were reaching for the next prop, which happened to be a bright red wig, when there was a knock on the door. It made me jump, and my breath caught for a moment. Shaking my head at my own foolishness, I delicately picked my way across the floor, searching through my brain for some ferocious reprimands to toss at whoever decided to interrupt me. Settling my expression into a proper bitch-face, I sharply jerked open the door.

Whoops.

Shayne lifted his eyebrows, peering past me into the space. “Wow, looks a lot better already.”

My stomach twisted with embarrassment, and by the time he looked back at me, I’d rearranged my look into something a little more pleasant. However, I didn’t step back. I had to keep face somehow.

He slid his hands into his pockets, eyes flicking to the floor. “I was wondering if you needed help.”

Every functioning organ in my body screamed at me to say yes, to let the man in, but my mouth stubbornly denied them. “Um, I’m really sorry, but…”

“No, my bad,” he said, raising both hands to hold off my apologies and explanations. “I read your sign.”

My guilt most have still been apparent, for he smiled a bit, with just a hint of that playfulness. It was soon gone, though, replaced by something I could only name as nervousness, but that must be wrong. I’d never known Shayne to be nervous, he was Superman, always pushing through, chin held up high. Afraid to scare off this moment, I waited patiently, letting the words come to him before I tried shoving them in his mouth myself.

“That’s actually not all I came here for.”

I raised an eyebrow, curious, urging him to go on. The teenage girl inside me shrieked and began throwing out possible scenarios faster than the speed of light, but I swallowed against the questions rising in my throat, watching those blue eyes fill with hesitation and wanting to sweep it away with my thumb, clearing the easel in order to paint my own picture with pretty words clouded by prettier emotions.

He shifted. “I was wondering if you wanted to go out to dinner with me.”

Oh.

This was the moment in which my being split in two, dividing my brain from my body. I was aware of the hallway we stood in, aware of the low tone of his voice, aware that someone might come by at any moment, but my hand remained firm on the doorknob, and my legs didn’t move backwards and invite him forwards. My mind begged to be heard, to speak and be spoken to, to let him in, let him in, finally, but I was incapable of anything but staring at the person before me, in all his familiarity and mystery, knowing that I knew everything I could know about him and yearning for more, being tugged forwards by an invisible string wielded by an invisible puppet master, letting my chest rise towards his when he leaned in the tiniest amount, voice dropping to even lower levels because he had words for me and me only.

“Just… Hear me out, please. I know we had a conversation before, but I didn’t get to say everything.

“I want to try again. I’d like to put what happened, what we did, behind us, if only for a little bit, because I want to show you what I would have done if things had gone differently. I would have asked you out like this, well, not exactly like this, but to a restaurant, a nice one. And only because that’s the standard first date. But after that, we would have done things that you’d once told me you always wanted to, like have a date at the aquarium, or at the trampoline park, or sneak into a movie just for the thrill of it.

“You need to know that I would give anything to go back in time and stop myself. It was a stupid thing that has probably tainted your image of me forever. I never wanted that for us. I wanted it to be special, if I can say that without sounding too weird. Simply put, I should have been a gentleman. And I would like to be. For you.” He looked deeply into my eyes, searching. “Does that make sense?”

Stars.

Stars were exploding outwards from my heart, twinkling and shining, illuminating my bones, letting my very structure be read and understood, and yes, I understood, of course I did, how could I not? Memories of late nights spent etching stories onto each others skin, building a castle out of clouds and daydreaming, a shared liminal space that did not exist without two in it, a place that kept me warm on cold night and was lit up with stars, the galaxies that I could see now, and they went on, and on, and on, and I wanted to paint his lips with stars. I wanted to wipe away the worry lines and replace them with constellations, to let us become a myth told by middle school English teachers and stereotypical wise men in films. I wanted to walk around in his mind, strolling through delicacies and wonderment, to see his vision and share with him mine, to dance in the darker recesses and fill them with nebulas, glowing dots like buttons, sewn into the night with care.

I wanted to kiss him so badly.

But I didn’t.

If he was going to be a gentleman, then I was too. We could do that. Take two, three, maybe fifteen steps backwards and take another path. A brighter one.

A smile lit up my face, more true and honest than any I’d ever given to someone. “That makes sense.”

The relief was immediately apparent, and the worry sailed out the window, to be replaced by another emotion. I averted my eyes. I didn’t want to discern anything just yet. I wanted to let it play out.

My body and mind reconnected, and then stars glittered.

I stepped backwards, my feet bare, and widened the door.

“Please, come in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's finally finished.  
> I might cry.  
> Thank you SO much for reading and supporting. This was such a joy to write, and I think I'll always love this story. The Smosh group has so many delightful people in it, and so few pieces dedicated to them. I'd like to produce more.  
> I hope you enjoyed this at least half as much as I did, if not more, and another ENORMOUS thank you for being so patient with my slow updates. I hope the ending is all you hoped for.  
> PLEASE leave any thoughts below! I would love nothing more than to discuss this story with you.  
> Once again, thank you, and goodbye for now! <3


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